Angel on the Balcony
by rae-for-the-win
Summary: In which the Novaks move in next to the Winchesters out in the middle of nowhere and Dean is blind to the fact that he is slowly but surely falling in love with the Novaks' son, Castiel. Also in which Castiel is literally blind.
1. Chapter 1

**Ok so I'm trying to get back into writing fanfiction again! **

**Originally this was an idea I had for writing an original story but I decided to twist it into a Destiel!AU c:**

**I'm a bit rusty so give me and this fic a chance okay? Enjoy!**

**EDIT: I have looked through this chapter again and fixed a couple things for you new readers! Yay for editing! **

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Angel on the Balcony:

_Chapter 1_

If there was one thing that Dean wasn't used to, it was the sound of a car horn at nine in the morning.

Inhaling and exhaling the sleep out of his system in one huge breath and sigh combo, Dean Winchester slowly rolled over in bed, propping himself up on his elbows as he squinted his eyes open. Sunlight was already shining through the back window and he swore he could hear the birds chirping in the oak at the side of the house.

Just another morning in the middle of nowhere.

Until he remembered why a car horn had jarred him from his sleep.

Bed sheets already kicked around his ankles in response to the August heat, Dean slumped out of bed, scratching his stomach under a fading grey night shirt as he practically unhinged his jaw in an all-consuming yawn.

"God_damn_…" Dean mumbled, pacing across the wood-paneled floor of his bedroom, planks creaking familiarly as he swung open the door and made his way to the bathroom. Just before he reached the open door at the end of the hallway, Dean briefly stopped at the closed door to the right of his own and lifted a fist, pounding twice and pausing. It took less than fifteen seconds for an answering thud to echo back to him. By routine, Dean opened the door and leaned into the room.

"Up and at 'em, Sammy." Dean croaked, watching as the lump on the bed in the far corner shifted slightly before making any noise.

"_Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaan._" The lump groaned, shifting a bit more as two hands appeared before disappearing once again and the comforter was pulled farther up, the lump now made sufficiently lumpier, "It's a Saturday. What _gives?_"

Dean, feeling especially older-brotherly this morning, walked to the side of the bed, grabbed the edge of the comforter, and pulled hard, revealing a fetus-shaped Sam Winchester beneath, though Dean was positive fetuses had less hair.

"Hey!" Sam protested, jerking up and swiping at Dean. However, his reactions were just behind Dean's as Dean pulled it out of his younger brother's reach.

"Neighbors are here, little brother!" And with that, Dean wrapped the blanket around himself and ran out of the room before Sam had the chance to leap at him. Once Dean reached the bathroom, he quickly locked it behind him, dropped the blanket and his boxers, and stood over the toilet. As he took his first piss of the day, Dean glanced over his shoulder at the mirror as his reflection glanced over its shoulder straight back at him.

There were some dark circles under his eyes and the front of his hair was sticking up and to the left, but other than that: the same old Dean Winchester. After he had finished, Dean stepped up to the counter and flipped on the sink. The water spat out of the faucet until the toilet finished flushing and Dean waited until the water settled in a cool stream before he cupped his hands under the water and brought it up to his face, cherishing the feeling of the water dripping down his jaw to his neck in the unbearable heat of the summer.

Suddenly, Dean heard the sound of distant conversation and, quirking an eyebrow, he turned to the bathroom window and pulled the curtain away, looking out into the front yard. The moving van was parked just up the road and already the back was being opened and furniture carried into the front yard of the neighboring house; the only house for a mile besides their own.

Watching the men carry an ornate looking armchair into the house, Dean was reminded of the last family that lived in the old farmhouse. It had been an elderly couple: an old woman whose kitchen always smelled of the pies she left on the windowsill where they temped Dean every Sunday he remembered them living there, and an old man who spent his days on a rocking chair out on the porch while he whittled away at a block of wood. Once he had made Dean a wood pistol, one that still sat on his dresser collecting dust on top of layers of thinly fabricated memories. They had moved out to a retirement home when Dean was just short of nine and no one had lived there ever since. Eight years later, the very sight of anyone walking down the cobbled walkway was something that Dean would definitely have to get used to.

Just behind the moving van was parked a red mini-van, the side door swung open with a small group of people crowded around it.

Dean immediately recognized his parents, Mary in her white night gown with the afghan from the living room thrown around her shoulders and John with his ratted night shirt and hairy, knobby legs sticking out of faded- what Dean liked to call "old-man"-shorts with probably his fifth cup of coffee in one hand and his other arm slung around his wife. If nothing else, the Winchesters had a way of making a first impression.

Though he couldn't hear exactly what was being said from where he was standing, the tone sounded friendly enough. Looking down, Dean saw that they were talking to another middle-aged couple. The man was shorter than John though they had equally scruffy beards. If there was a contest between who could look the most homeless while actually owning a home, it would be a close tie between the two as the man looked as though he had been wearing the same dressing robe for a week and had slippers to match. The woman next to him was a little more put together, her short, black hair straight and falling to her shoulders. She was wearing a respectable blue blouse with khaki shorts, though, unlike John, it looked as though she had bought them within the last decade.

Next to the women stood a girl with bright red hair. Dean might have placed her at twelve by the look of her scrawny figure unless it hadn't been for her breasts, which clearing put her at fifteen or sixteen. Honestly, she was a nice sight with her long, wavy, red hair and longish face, high cheekbones, and deep eyes. Dean watched as she drifted away from her parents and stepped back to the car and leaned half-way into it. Dean peered closer out the window, trying to see what she was doing, though he was blocked by John's iconic ball cap.

It was only until the girl stepped back out that he saw that she had brought someone along with her. Clasping hands, she slowly guided a dark-haired boy out of the van where he then stood next to his mother and father. The first thing Dean noticed was the stiff way in which he walked and how he only stopped when his sister pulled back slightly on his arm. Dean could hear Mary and John greet him by the inclination of their voices and though Dean saw him respond by the motion of his lips, the boy stared blankly at them, as though looking as a spot over their shoulders.

Dean was drawn away from the sight, however, when a sharp banging on the bathroom door nearly jolted him right back out of his boxers.

"Jesus, Dean if you're going to take so damn long I'll just have to use your dresser!"

"And it'll be the last thing you ever do!" Dean responded, pulling the hand towel off the rack and wiping his face with it before yanking open the door. Sam stood in the doorway and- _damn the kid_- looked _down_ on Dean with an irritated expression that was either the result of grogginess, or a frustratingly full bladder. Or both. Probably both.

"It's all yours." Dean said, reaching up to clap Sam on the cheek in which the younger instantly flinched away before sidestepping around Dean and slamming the door.

With a shrug, Dean went back to his room and picked up the least-smelling shirt left on the floor and a pair of cargo cutoffs and walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Doing a quick sweep the room, Dean did a small victory dance upon seeing John's half-eaten toast lying on the kitchen table, walked over, and promptly bit half of it off in one bite. Taking the rest of it with him, Dean pushed open the screen door, hearing it clap shut behind him as he paced across the yard where the group was standing.

Hearing the door, Mary turned around first and smiled at her older son, "There's Dean! Is Sam also up?"

"Took care of it." Dean said, though it sounded much more discombobulated through the mouthful of toast he had yet to chew.

"Is that my toast?" John asked, tone accusing but the upward quirk of his lips throwing the whole act off.

"Sure is."

The woman standing across from them laughed and Dean noticed her straight white teeth as she smiled and the way her eyes crinkled, a few of the small details he hadn't been able to see from the bathroom window. He also caught a small, interested smirk on the girl's face.

"Chuck, Tessa, Castiel, and Anna, this is our oldest son, Dean. Dean, this is Mr. and Mrs. Novak, their son, Castiel and their daughter, Anna. Castiel will be in your senior class this year."

Dean, ever the gentleman, stuffed the rest of the toast into his mouth, brushed the crumbs off on his shorts and stepped forward, holding out a hand to each of them. It was only until he reached Castiel that the handshake wasn't returned.

"Nice to meet you, Castiel." Dean offered, arm still outstretched.

"And you as well." Castiel replied, though he only looked blankly over Dean's left shoulder and all be damned if he didn't have the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen.

"Oh, Dean. Castiel's blind." Mrs. Novak offered, touching her son on the shoulder. Castiel turned his head in the direction of his mother, a look of concern on his face.

"Oh, did I-"

Dean lowered his hand and laughed gently, "No it's my bad, man." Castiel turned back in Dean's direction and smiled, scratching the back of his head, looking embarrassed despite himself.

Even after Sam came outside and introduced himself, Dean still found himself looking at Castiel throughout the small talk exchanged. Maybe it was because he just _could _and he knew that Castiel wouldn't suddenly glare at him and say, _"What're you looking at?"_. But Dean felt it was different than just that, though he couldn't place the thought.

"Well I have three able-bodied men who can help with the heavy-lifting!" Mary proclaimed after they had worn through all of the talk you can theoretically have with someone you've just met, "Isn't that right, boys?"

Actually, the job did finish much faster once Dean, Sam, and John all pitched in. Slowly but surely, every time Dean stepped back into the house it began to look less like an empty shell and more like the home he remembered visiting all those years ago. All the while, Castiel sat in the same armchair in the living room, head following the sounds of the heavy footsteps, the _"Right there"_s, and the _"A little to the left"_s almost as if he could see the movement going on right in front of him. Dean tried not to stare because, though Castiel couldn't see him, Anna had already side-eyed him once or twice already for doing so.

The last piece of furniture was a wood-polished record player. Heaving it up into his arms, Dean walked into the living room where Mr. and Mrs. Novak and his own family were reclining among the still unloaded boxes.

"What about this?" Dean asked Mr. Novak, "Master bedroom?"

"Oh actually that's Castiel's. The first door on the right. I think Anna took him up there just a minute ago." Dean nodded and rounded the corner to find the stairwell leading up to the second story. Taking a deep breath, he took the first difficult step and it eventually got easier as he went trudged up one at a time. Breathing heavily from the strain on his arms and legs, Dean toed open the already agar door on the right to see Castiel lying down on the bare bed at the edge of the room.

"Hey, Cas." Dean said, walking into the room, "You think setting the record player on top of the dresser would be a good place?"

Sitting up, Cas nodded, inclining his head towards Dean, "Yes that's a good spot for it." Dean, eager to relieve himself of the heavy weight and hard edges, hurriedly paced across the room and dropped the record player on top, adjusting it afterwards so it didn't teeter off the edge.

"Anna told me that there's a door on that wall leading to the balcony." Castiel said.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dean saw a plain white door with a shiny gold knob next to the window, "Sure is." He replied, "Actually my room has a balcony too. Right next to yours."

"Is it nice?"

Dean had to ponder the question a bit. Until he was about thirteen, Mary hadn't allowed for him to use the balcony. She had always said it was rotting and that if he wasn't careful it would break from underneath him. Though, as he got older and found new and more interesting ways to injure himself, the balcony became an issue pushed to the back of their minds. However, Dean did sometimes lie out there to watch the stars when it was a clear night, or just to get some fresh air every once in a while.

"Yeah, it is." Dean replied simply. Castiel made a content noise and Dean wasn't quite sure what to follow up with until he heard Mrs. Novak calling up the stairs for them all to come down. Dean could hear the floorboards creak as Anna made her way from her room to their room, smiling briefly at Dean before going to Castiel and guiding him up and out of the room. Dean followed closely behind.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, Dean's nostrils were promptly graced with the smell of fresh baked apple pie and he could feel himself on the verge of drooling as the three of them entered the kitchen. There on the counter was the gift to God's great earth, its crust a golden brown and Dean could even see some apple filling oozing between the slits of crust. He stood on the other side of Castiel as Mrs. Novak stood up and smiled before them all.

"Mary has been so kind as to make us all apple pie while we were moving furniture! And it does smell absolutely delicious!" Mary smiled and looked directly at Dean with her next statement.

"Well, I've had practice with this one around." Dean grinned and shrugged good-heartedly while Sam simply rolled his eyes with a matching grin.

"So thank you Winchesters for all you've already done for us. I'm sure this is the start of a wonderful friendship. Let's eat!" With that everyone let out a cheer and Mr. Novak began to cut the pie into even slices as John helped distribute them among everyone. There was whipped cream set out but unlike his heathen brother, Dean believed adding anything to a perfectly good piece of pie was an abomination. He saw Castiel shake his head when Anna offered to put whipped cream on his slice and Dean felt his respect for the guy heighten just slightly.

The Winchesters left the Novaks to unpack the remainder of their things and it wasn't until the sky had darkened and the stars had come out that Dean stepped out onto his balcony and saw Cas on his own, sitting in his desk chair and looking out over the expansive corn fields that made up their backyards. Their houses were situated so closely next to each other that with Dean's balcony stretching all the way to the left edge of their house and Castiel's balcony stretching all the way to the right side of his house, when Dean stood on the left edge of his balcony, he was only three arm reaches away from where Castiel was sitting on the right edge of his balcony. From where he was standing, Dean could hear the sound of music drift from the record player at Castiel's feet, the scratchy sound of The Beatles catching in the warm, summer breeze.

Before he said anything, Dean simply watched Castiel. He watched as Castiel stared out past where the fields met the darkened horizon of the night sky. He watched as his dark hair lifted with the breeze, falling into his face and how he left it there and stared anyway, a tan trench coat hanging over his shoulders like a blanket whose sleeves swayed in the wind. The music stopped and Dean could hear nothing but the rhythmic spin of the record before the next song, _Let It Be,_ faded in.

And Dean considered that for a moment, letting Castiel be and simply walking back inside and falling into bed like he should, like what his drooping eyelids, and his strained muscles called him to do. But instead he leaned over the balcony railing.

"So how do you like it up here, Cas?"

Rather than looking surprised to hear him, Castiel didn't so much as turn his head before replying, "Nice. Like you said."

Dean then noticed what looked to be a giant furball with legs jump onto Castiel's lap, promptly rubbing itself up underneath his chin, purring loudly enough to be heard over Paul McCartney's _"Let it be~"_. Dean could see Castiel smiling through a mouthful of tail as he scratched behind the ears of what Dean had determined to be cat.

"His name is Baldy." Castiel spoke, petting down the cat's back. He paused for a moment before turning his head towards Dean, "The irony is intentional."

The dry, monotone way in which Castiel had said the last sentence startled a laugh out of Dean, "I figured, dude." Castiel smiled again and Dean couldn't help but join him. There was a prolonged silence as Castiel looked out again and Dean looked at Castiel.

"What is it like out there?" Dean could see Castiel bite down on his lip, worrying the skin there, anticipating the answer, torn between excitement and dread, "Is it beautiful?"

Dean looked out at the same view he had seen all of his life. But this time he tried to really _look_. He tried to look out at the expanse of land like he had never seen the rows of corn or wind barriers of trees, or like he had never noticed the sheer distance in which they stretched endlessly left and right-so far that he couldn't see the neighboring town. Like the single, two-way stretch of road, the sight of everything simply went on and on and on.

"You know what, Cas? It sure is."

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**Updating may be spontaneous due to school craziness! **

**Reviews literally make my day c:**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! Time for a chapter update!**

**Thanks to all of you who reviewed/favorited/alerted this story! I really really appreciate it and I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's more interesting than the last, I promise.**

**Note: I didn't have to edit this at four in the morning so hopefully there are less mistakes though I wouldn't put it past me to make a couple.**

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Angel on the Balcony:

_Chapter 2_

The egg spat and fizzled as Dean cracked it over the heat of the frying pan.

"One or two, Sammy?" Dean called into the adjoining living room where the younger Winchester slumped on the couch, eyes still half-closed and hair looking like some sort of abstract concept of an artist who had taken a tablet of acid. And Dean had told him as much.

"Two!" He groaned back in a way that clearly reflected the extent to which Sam was not a morning person. Dean cracked another egg and poked at it with a spatula as Mary slipped her way into the kitchen, smiling at her son.

"That's nice of you, making breakfast for your brother." She cooed, taking the coffee pot out and pouring a cup for herself, "Coffee?"

Dean nodded and heard the clinking of mugs as Mary pulled another from the cupboard and poured a cup for Dean, setting it beside him on the counter. He picked it up and took a small sip, testing the temperature before taking a larger gulp and letting the much needed caffeine run through his veins.

"So do you have plans for today?" Mary asked, sitting down at the round kitchen table on the edge of the room where envelops and magazines and newspapers and other mail had piled up over the course of the summer. The Winchesters didn't use the table much anyway. If they had company the dining room table was used. The kitchen table was simply there for setting various thing on, which Dean would say it did a pretty good job at.

"Not really," Dean yawned, flipping the scrambled eggs and scooting them around the pan, "I just thought I would go hang out with Cas."

It had been two weeks since the Novak's had moved in next door and about a week since all of their boxes had been cleared out and dumped in the recycling at the side of the road. Dean and Sam had been over every day to lend a hand with unboxing and situating their new neighbors into the house. It had been long hours of heaving and hulling boxes here and there, up and down the stairs with sweat pouring off like rain in the heat, but Dean hadn't minded all that much.

Mrs. Novak had taken a few lessons from Mary and had consequently learned to make a mean apple pie which she happily gave to the boys as a reward. Though they weren't nearly as good as Mary's, Sam occasionally had to tell him to wipe his "jizz face" off his face, which Dean didn't simply to spite him. He had always been good at that.

Dean also didn't mind going over because it meant seeing Castiel which he found curious because it turned out that Castiel was really nothing like the people he usually hung around. Most of the time Castiel sat out on his balcony with his record player at his feet and his cat in his lap, much like the first day Dean met him. However, Dean had found himself stealing away from the heavy-lifting to take a break where he would go up to where Castiel sat on his balcony and lean against the railing and just talk. Castiel was a good listener considering he talked very little, so much so that Dean had asked if he was mute as well.

Castiel took the jokes well, actually. Sometimes he made a few himself though Dean never seemed to catch them right away. It was usually a minute afterwards that he would let out a laugh and clap him on the back, saying, "Oh I get it!" and Castiel would smile. It was never a toothy smile, as Mary called it, but just a slight upward turn of the lips. Though somehow Dean understood that Castiel was happy in those moments, or he wouldn't have bothered at all.

So the two households had more or less established an open-house policy and Dean would be lying if he said that he hadn't taken advantage.

"You like him then?" Mary asked, brushing aside a few envelopes so she could set her mug on the table.

Dean nodded as he reached to flip off the heat, take the eggs off the stove, and scrape them out onto a plate, "Yeah he's cool."

Before Mary was able to ask any more questions, Dean took the plate of eggs into the living room where Sam had fall asleep again by the sound of his quiet snoring. Dean contemplated simply dropping the plate on him but refrained due to the actual effort he had put into making them.

Instead, Dean lifted his foot and brought it down on the younger's stomach, smirking at the way Sam instantly jerked out of sleep and made a choked "OOF!" sound before groaning a couple swear words and glaring up at Dean.

"Your eggs are ready, sleeping beauty." Dean said in a mockingly high voice and in the best British accent he could, "And _my_ you are a beauty with that hair of yours this morning!"

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned up to take the plate out of Dean's hands with a muttered "thanks" which Dean couldn't quite differentiate between genuine or sarcastic but really never bothered to care.

Dean fell back into the armchair in the corner of the room next to the window and grinned as Sam took a huge bite of eggs, "You know, Sammy, if you keep waking up past eleven the breakfast menu may not be available anymore. You only just made it this morning."

Sam scoffed and replied through a mouthful of eggs, "So you have separate menus now?"

Dean nodded, "Yep. You woke up at 11:38 am and I should have you know that the breakfast menu closes at 11:3_9_ am. I was about to pack up the eggs. I should be better prepared next time." Dean watched as Sam did another perfectly executed eye roll and he grinned to himself.

"Yeah whatever, Dean."

As much as Dean loved messing with Sam, it only lasted as long as it took the younger to devour his meal and haul it into the kitchen before Dean was left looking out the window at road, anxiously waiting for the appearance of a red minivan driving past.

The Novaks went to church every Sunday morning at ten and Dean had found himself waiting like a fucking _puppy_ until they came rolling home. Before he had been so conditioned to find something for himself or Sam to do out here in the middle of nowhere that when they finally had neighbors, the two spent so much time with them that they had literally forgotten what they had always done without the Novak's next door.

As he watched the corn in the fields sway in the wind across the road, Dean felt his eyelids grow heavy and before he knew it, he was being shaken awake by Sam.

"Dude. And you call _me_ sleeping beauty." Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes as Sam took a seat on the couch and flicked on the TV, "The Novak's have been back for an hour by the way. They're probably wondering where you are considering-" But Dean didn't let Sam finish his comment as he stood up and went out the door and ran over to the Novak's front porch.

Dean hadn't so much as stepped inside when he heard the voice from the kitchen call out to him.

"Come to borrow Castiel again, Dean?"

Mrs. Novak peered around the corner, a rag in one hand and a cooking pan in the other. A small smile played on the corner of her lips as Dean scratched the back of his head, caught.

"Only if it's alright with you, Mrs. Novak."

"Of course it is, go on up. He's probably on his balcony again." Dean flashed a smile of thanks as she turned back into the kitchen before he ran up the stairs and stepped into the first door on the right.

From the entrance of the room Dean could just see the back of Castiel's head through the open window. He paced over to the door and had just swung open the balcony door when the corner promptly hit something with a loud thud.

"Hey Cas- shit-" Opening the door the rest of the way, Dean saw that it was a fold-up lawn chair, one that he had remembered putting into the Novak's garage just last week.

"Oh, I thought I moved that over …" Dean looked over at Castiel, his blue eyes turned towards the door where Dean was standing, "My apologies."

"Nah, it's okay." Dean stepped out onto the balcony and let the door fall shut behind him. He picked up the chair and set it back up next to Castiel's, "Why did you set it up here anyway?"

"For you." Cas replied simply, shrugging his shoulders, "You come up here so much as it is. So I asked Anna if she could bring it up for me."

Dean couldn't help but smile as he took the seat, falling back into it and letting himself relax, "Well hey thanks, I appreciate it." Dean saw the corners of Castiel's lips lift again and he allowed himself to watch how they stayed like that as Cas asked how he was doing.

Even as Dean took control of the conversation, vividly retelling his encounter with the bee hive under the steps when he went to get the mail that morning, he would occasionally glance back to Castiel for a reaction. Never once did the slight smile leave Castiel's lips and when he threw his head back and laughed when Dean told him about how he had yelled and flailed his arms, he felt something inside him seize up in a swell of emotions that made him feel that _yes, this is right_. He laughed along and watched as the sun slowly began to sink lower and lower into the sky until there was only a small half-circle left poking itself up over the horizon.

"The sun's about to set." Dean mentioned out of the blue, only then realizing how long the silence had lasted up until that point. He hadn't even noticed that they had stopped talking somewhere along the line and just sat there, comfortable in each other's presence. He couldn't even do that with Sam without wanting to clang two pots together.

"What does it look like?"

Dean blinked and glanced over at Castiel and was surprised to see that he was already looking over at him, blue eyes just gazing past his left shoulder. Dean briefly wondered if Castiel would ever be able to look him directly in the eyes and what it would be like if he ever did. However, the thought quickly passed as he became aware of the Castiel waiting on him.

"Uh, well," Dean started, clearing his throat, "It's kind of- you know, Cas, I'm not very good at this sort of thing."

"Just try."

Dean heaved a sigh before looking back over the fields, eyes tracing up to where the sun was only minutes from disappearing, nearly one with the earth again, "It's…" He paused, gathering up the thoughts and emotions that he was thinking and feeling in the moment, "It's like the sun is the center of everything. All of the colors are drawn from it. Like the reds, and the oranges, and the small bits of yellow fade to purples and blues as the sun falls into the horizon. It's like there's a huge hole on the other side of those fields and the Sun is falling into it. It sounds sad, but…it's really not. It's actually really nice." Having finished all that he could come up with, Dean turned back to Castiel, "You know what I-"

But he stopped abruptly when he saw the tears on Castiel's face. He hadn't made a single sound as Dean had talked and his chest wasn't hitching in the way it usually would when someone was crying. They were simply silent tears that rolled down Castiel's face from his wide, unblinking eyes that glowed in the sun's dimming light.

Dean finally let out the breath he had been holding in, "Cas…?" He question, voice cracking slightly in the dense silence.

Cas flinched at the sound of Dean's voice and seemed to suddenly become aware of himself as he quickly lifted his hand to his face, hurriedly wiping the tears away and sniffing a couple times.

"I-I apologize." He stuttered, coughing awkwardly and running a hand down his face again, "I wasn't-"

But he was interrupted as Dean placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking gently, "Hey, Cas it's all good." After to brief pause Dean broke a smile and laughed, "I know, I just have a way with words. It's a bit overwhelming."

To Dean's relief, Castiel smiled and let out a shaky laugh. However, he didn't reply until he had fully composed himself, "Did you…Did you know that I haven't always been blind?"

Dean's eyes widened and his smile faded as quickly as it had come and he waited as Castiel wrung his hands in his lap. For some reason he had always assumed Castiel had been born blind, not that he had become blind at some later point in his life. Honestly, Dean didn't quite know what to think. Was he supposed to be happy that Castiel had been able to witness the world around him for at least a small portion of his life? Or should he be sad because he had had that ability taken away from him after being able to experience it at all? The emotions churched restlessly in his stomach as Castiel spoke again.

"When I was nine, I was diagnosed with eye cancer." Castiel took in a large breath before exhaling and continuing, "There wasn't much the doctors could do about it. It was three months between the diagnoses and when they did the surgery that took out the tumor and severed my eyesight."

Dean knew he should say something. But anything that came to mind felt too inappropriate, too inconsiderate, or too shallow to mention. So he simply sat and listened as Castiel continued.

"We were living in California at the time and the day before the surgery, we went to the beach as a family and watched the sun set behind the ocean. It was just like you said, sad but…nice." Dean could hear Castiel gulp down whatever he was feeling and he practically breathed the last couple sentences, "I was just reminded of that day and I understand it has been a long time since then but sometimes…" His voice finally dropped off then and though there were no more tears, Dean could see the effort Castiel was putting in to keeping it that way.

By some force other than himself, Dean moved his chair so it was facing right in front of Castiel's and leaned forward to place both hands on his shoulders, "Cas." Dean said, voice firm. Castiel lifted his head from his hands and looked up, eyes directed off the corner of Dean's jaw, "If you ever want to talk about what it was like…_before_… Just _do_ it." Dean winced. He had meant to make that a bit gentler but he coughed and moved on, "What I mean is- you don't have to keep that to yourself. If you don't want to, that is. You can talk to me! You listen to me talk my goddamn mouth of enough as it is. Just tell me to shut the fuck up if you want to say something and you'll have the floor, man. That's what friends are for, right? And there's no choice on the friend thing by the way, I already told you about the bee situation and I'd have to kill you before I let you go and tell everyone that I-"

"Dean!" Dean stopped mid-sentence and suddenly noticed that Castiel was laughing, eyes crinkling at their corners. Dean felt himself smile as he watched Cas, the same warm feeling returning with the flash of Castiel's teeth and the shaking of his shoulders as each laugh bubbled out of him.

"Yeah, Cas?"

And for the briefest of moments, Castiel's eyes lifted and met right in line with Dean's. The shock of it left Dean breathless as if he had been sucker punched in the stomach. Yet he couldn't look away as the blue is Castiel's eyes glowed almost unnaturally in the last remnants of the sun's light. And then, as quickly as the moment had come, it passed and Castiel's gaze shifted just off Dean's left ear.

"Shut the fuck up."

Somehow convincing himself that he had been seeing things, Dean ended up laughing, the moment passing for the time being as he clapped his hand on the junction between Castiel's neck and shoulder, the other reaching up to ruffle his hair.

"Atta boy, Cas." And after a moment of smiling fondly at his friend, Dean looked back to the horizon and silently counted down the seconds before the sliver of light disappeared and the world collapsed into the purple hue of the night. The only light now came from the stars, the last yellows and reds to prevail in the Sun's absence. Dean felt a calm overcome him then when he turned back Castiel, his eyes looking unseeingly to where the Sun had gone, though he saw no differently than when it had shone high in the sky.

And somewhere deep down, Dean understood that that was okay. That even in his perpetual darkness, Castiel could forever envision himself in the sun's light.

And somewhere deep down, Dean hoped that he could share in that light as well.

* * *

**Hopefully I'll be able to keep updating every week. We'll see! **

**Reviews are better than chocolate (and that's saying something).**


	3. Chapter 3

**WHOA AN UPDATE WHAT**

**Yeah wow I'm so sorry, everyone. Lots of things have happened since I've been with this story. School has been insane and I managed to mess up my knee pretty badly playing basketball. So much so that I had to have surgery and have since been less than stable. So that's fun.**

**But I've been on a writing kick as of late and thought I would try to spit out another chapter of this fic! We get to see school life, yay!**

**Also, thanks for all the reviews/faves/alerts. I love you all! **

**Hope you enjoy, everyone! Sorry again for the wait!**

**Note: Only looked through this once. I apologize for grammar and my abuse of commas. They were asking for it.**

* * *

Angel on the Balcony:

_Chapter 3_

One of the downsides to living in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, Dean thought, was the lack of school options. Because when you lived in the middle of nowhere, you tended to go to the closest school, for it was already an insanely long commute to go pretty much everywhere as it was. And in the Winchester and the Novak's case, the closest school was St. Georgia's Catholic High School twenty-five minutes up the road.

Dean wasn't religious.

He had never had a reason to be. John and Mary had never really enforced it on either of the boys during their childhood. Mary was the only one of them who had grown up in a religious family, but she was what their grandfather would call a "free spirit" and had never "truly had the fear of God in her". Sure, she went to mass, and went to Sunday school, and Religious Ed and all that, but she always had a tendency to bend the rules just a bit. She didn't believe in sin, she believed in being human. She didn't believe in forgiveness, she believed in acceptance. She didn't believe in _a _religion, she believed in _her_ religion.

It was much the same for Sam, who once told Dean that he was agnostic. When Dean asked him what the hell that was and if it was contagious, Sam had said it just meant that he believed in something bigger than himself- that something had to have started everything. When Dean had asked him where that something came from, Sam frowned and shrugged, looking fed up with the entire concept.

So Dean didn't believe in God, or the devil, or angels, or saints, or whatever. It just didn't make sense.

It wasn't that he was prejudice against people who did, however. As long as they didn't shove it in his face. And that's why he hated Mr. Zachariah.

"Mr. Winchester!"

Dean lifted his eyes from where he had been doodling in the margarines of his Theology notebook. It wasn't even really Theology, now that he thought about it. It was just forty-five minutes of Zachariah reading directly from the Bible and then lecturing to all eighteen of his bored-as-the-hell-they-were-constantly-threatened-with students. There was no room for opinion, let alone "theory", unless your opinions matched his and your theories were completely uncontroversial, which defeated the purpose.

Zachariah wasn't even a professor though he made his students call him one. He just dressed in a shabby suit that was completely unfitting for the first week of September (though Dean figured he was probably trying to make an impression) and walked around the room with a ruler in his hands, as if that would make him look more intimidating. His glasses hung all the way down his lumpy nose, clearly indicating that he didn't need them, but, again, simply wanted to seem of "professor-status". And worst of all was that he talked in a haughty air of voice and addressed students in such a condescending tone that Dean felt like taking his Bible and shoving it in Zachariah's ugly face. See how he likes it.

"Can you remind the rest of the class of the parable of the Prodigal Son?"

Dean sighed, almost ashamed that he actually knew this one. But as he looked up to see Zachariah looking at him with a tiny smirk where he sat, leg's crossed on his desk, all Dean wanted to do was wipe that smile off his face. Dean knew he was expecting an 'I don't know' so he could tell the class what an idiot he was, and that 'God disapproves of uneducated sinners like Mr. Winchester here'.

But all be damned if Dean wasn't going to be a sinner for his own reasons. He pulled his pen cap out his mouth and replied, "So the younger son was like 'give me some money' to his dad. Son leaves and goes to spend all his money on booze and whores. He runs out of money and thinks, 'shit my dad will be pissed'. He goes home. His dad is all like, 'hey party!' The older son is like, 'what totally not fair, dad.' Moral of the story? Nobody's perfect. Let's party. "

Dean could hear snickers of amusement from his fellow classmates and he could admit that he enjoyed it, enjoyed the attention and the idea that they would all go to their friends after class with the sentence, "Oh my god so Dean Winchester said.." on their lips.

Dean probably would have cared more if he wasn't too preoccupied seeking out the reaction of one classmate in particular. Castiel was sat up at the front right corner of the room next to the door and Dean could just barely make out the small, upturned smile from where he sat in the middle left row, third seat back. Dean couldn't help the wave of satisfaction that washed over him when he saw it. It was strange, really. He had never felt that he wanted to please anyone. Sure he enjoyed the attention when it came to him, but he had never really sought it out before. But just that tiny twitch of Cas' mouth seemed to make everything better all of a sudden, like that was all that mattered. He didn't know why, but he really didn't care to find out either.

Dean was thrown out of his bliss, however, when Zachariah's ruler came down with a sharp crack on the front of his desk. Dean cursed himself for flinching, because now he could see the smirk stretched at the corners of Zachariah's mouth. It was so similar to the way Cas smiled, but so completely different at the same time. It curved in the same way, just to the right, but unlike the way that the smile curved easily on Cas' lips, like he wasn't even aware of it, like he wasn't even trying was startlingly different than the way that Zachariah's was tight across his teeth and white at the corners, as if it was strained, as if it was a mockery in itself.

"We're starting the year off well, aren't we, Mr. Winchester?" His voice was pure venom and Dean would be lying if he said he wasn't soaking up every forced word that pressed through Zachariah's tight lips and the way that his ears took on a bright shade of red as anger boiled up in him, "Mocking the very word of God? Do you know what God does with arrogant sinners like you, Mr. Winchester?"

"Sends them to detention, I'm guessing?" Dean replied loud enough that all corners of the room could hear him. More snickers accompanied his snarky reply, and Cas' smile remained, though he still looked down at its desk as if he was trying to hide it, fighting (and failing) to make it less funny than he thought it was.

Dean felt high on that small, inconspicuous smile, like he could do anything and say anything as long as it was there. He felt as though he could serve countless hours of detention and it would be all worth it.

And it better be, because that's just what he received.

Nearly purple in the face now, Zachariah spat, "Do you see that board over there Mr. Winchester?" Dean didn't need to follow the direction in which his ruler was now pointing and he didn't need to be able to see into the future to predict what his punishment was going to be, "Two-hundred lines after school."

He walked away then and Dean rolled his eyes, only just stifling a laugh when he heard Zachariah mumble, "I would pray for your soul, but I'm not quite sure you have one."

Class resumed then, as Zachariah pointed for another student to answer the Prodigal Son question and pens were put in mouths, heads were settled on palms, and jaws were hung open as class dissolved into its typical lull once more. Dean has just gone back to doodling when he felt a foot prod him on the left side, closely followed by a prod on the right.

It was Jo Harvelle, Dean's ex-crush turned best friend when she told him freshman year that she would kick him in the balls if he asked her out one more time. Dean supposed it hadn't been all that serious due to the recovery time of approximately a day and a half. Since then, the two were usually inseparable during school hours and though everyone assumed that they fucked on a daily basis, the two were much better at getting the other fucked if anything.

Next to being wing-men/women to each other, Dean and Jo constantly looked after each other, which is where the prod came from. One prod on the left meant, "You're a fucking idiot." And if it was followed by a prod on the right it meant, "But I'll drive Sam home anyway."

Dean held out a thumbs up as his thanks before falling into a daze for the rest of class, Zachariah's lecture going through one ear and out the other. The only thing drawing his attention was Castiel, his sightless gaze bowed towards his braille Bible, fingers skimming over the dots as he followed along. But the slight smile never faded from the blind boy's lips and Dean found himself matching it. Though he knew he probably looked like an idiot, he also knew that he didn't care in the slightest.

* * *

Two hours later, Dean was leaning against the wall outside the History room, flipping his phone open and closed in boredom when the bell finally rang. Suddenly doors from all the way down the hall and back were flung open and the halls filled with students making their way to their lockers before heading off to the cafeteria for lunch. Dean watched the History room file out, nodding to a couple members of the football team before he was able to stick his head in the room.

Castiel was the last one left, packing his books into his backpack and grabbing for his cane when Dean spoke up, "Hey, Cas."

"Hello Dean." Cas replied, walking beside him, cane stuck out and tapping against the floor with a _clickclick_. Once he reached Dean's side, he looped his left arm around Dean's right and the two made their way out into the halls. Though Castiel had his cane for navigation, Dean was glad that he was there to see him through the hallway during passing periods, especially during lunch period when the hall chaos was amplified due to the race to get to the lunch line and the pizza that came right out of the oven, not the leftovers with the cheese congealed like hardened clay.

"So how do you like St. Georgia's, Cas?" Dean asked, turning them both down the end hallway towards a row of lockers. Since school started a week ago, they had already worked out a schedule. Anna took Cas to his first and second hour, Dean to his third as they shared Theology together, Dean also to his fourth hour where they shared Physics, Anna to his fifth because Dean had gym and Cas had art, and then Dean to lunch where they would first stop at Cas' locker and then Dean's on the lower floor on the way to the cafeteria. Dean and Cas shared all of their afternoon classes as well, so Anna was off the hook there as well.

It was more time-consuming that last year and Dean had to leave class early in order to be outside Cas' classrooms to take him to his next class. He didn't mind the later at all, however. The less time in Pre-Algebra and Government, the better in his book.

"It's nice." Cas said, shrugging his shoulders a bit. Though they had known each other for a month now, Castiel was still quiet and soft-spoken, never saying more than completely necessary. Though Dean did notice that Cas was less stiff than when they had first met. He let his shoulders droop a bit more and slouched more after Dean commented that it looked like he had a stick up his ass all the time. Cas also laughed more easily. Not all the time, never just for the hell of it, or to amuse someone like Dean sometimes did. No, Castiel only laughed when it was startled out of him, when it bubbled out of his chest without any preceding thought, when it surprised even him.

And like his small smiles, Dean lived for the laughter even more.

"What did you think about Theology today?" Dean prompted and he watched as Cas' lips curved slightly and he let out a breathy chuckle.

"Well, Professor Zachariah is quite the-"

"Dick?"

Cas laughed a short, loud bark of laughter before he reached up to cover his mouth with the hand that was hook around Dean's arm. His eyes were wide and Dean looked at him with a crooked grin, like it was the most interesting thing that someone could be so startled by their own laughter, almost as though they weren't used to hearing it. Which in Castiel's case was probably right.

"I was going to say _character_…but I suppose that works too."

The two talked back and forth from their individual lockers down to the cafeteria, sharing snippets of their day with the other until Dean walked them up to their lunch table which was already full except for two seats which the two promptly sat down in.

"Ah it's me own prodigal son. Let's get us our finest calf and slaughter it in celebration!"

Dean grinned across the table at Gabriel Trick, who looked like the proud father of a boy who scored a goal at his first soccer game. Gabriel was a year only than the rest of the seniors but had failed to graduate after failing gym because he just didn't show up. No one could argue Gabriel's genius, but his motivation left much to be desired. He was Dean's mentor of sorts, a big brother who loved him, but loved to tease him more.

"Since when am I your son?" Dean played along, opening his bag lunch and unwrapping his turkey sandwich.

"Since you asked for half my inheritance, better known as the four whole dollars you borrowed when you were twelve!" Everyone at the table shared a collective eye-roll and a groan. But Dean just laughed.

"Gabe, I swear I have four dollars in my pocket right now. If you would just let me give it to you-"

"Absolutely not!" Gabriel protested, "What then would I have to hang over you for the rest of your life? I swear, Winchester, when you're an old man rocking alone in retirement you'll hear me." Gabriel stood up on his stool then, holding his arms out lank at his side and wiggling his fingers, "Foooooouuuuur dolllaaaaarrrrs~" He said in the likeness of Bob Marley, waving his arms as if they bore the same shackles.

They all had a good laugh at that before Jo spoke up again, "The idiot's got two hundred lines after school though. I'll have to drive out of my way _again!_" She said this last part as though it was a great burden, but she grinned all the way through.

"What's he got you writing?" Garth Fitzgerald, a junior who no one quite remembered welcoming into their friend group, asked through an entire mouthful of PB&J sandwich.

"He's keeping it a surprise this time around." Dean replied with a shrug, "I'm shaking in anticipation though, really."

"I don't know what could be better than 'I will not say Mary has a fine bosom', quite honestly." Meg Masters, Dean's ex-arch enemy of sophomore year turned partner in crime, said, peeling away the pickle off of her half-cooked, grainy cafeteria burger, "I think that one takes it, Winchester."

"Are you serious?" Dean looked over to see Cas turned in his general direction, mouth open in some form of awe and lips quirked into a disbelieving smile, "'Mary's fine bosom'?"

"Well you know how I feel about those virgins." Dean said, earning a swift kick under the table from Lisa Bates, ex-girlfriend turned relationship pending, and a hoot of laughter from Gabriel.

The table dissolved into laughter before everyone finally dug into their food with earnest. A couple bites into his sandwich, Dean remembered something and nudged Jo in the side, "Hey you can fit Cas and Anna in your car too, right? I've been driving them, they're right next door."

"As long as you're alright squished up in the front." Jo replied, speaking more to Cas than to Dean, "I've got the pick-up today."

"It's alright." Cas replied, eating a spoonful of applesauce, "Thank you Jo."

The table settled after that, everyone breaking into their own side conversations and individual sandwich consumption and Dean felt himself relax within the familiarity of it all; the chaos, the laughter, the easy atmosphere in which everyone had a say if you were willing to tease and be teased. It was fun, it was safe, it was normal.

The only thing that was new, really was the gentle press of Cas' arm against his own as they sat side by side. Castiel was warm to the touch, but not too warm in the fading summer heat. It was comfortable, "just right" would be the words to describe it, and though it wasn't necessarily normal for Dean Winchester, he wouldn't mind if it became that way.

* * *

Dean's hands were aching and he could feel his fingers start to curl in towards his palms when he finally set the white board marker down.

On the board in front of him were two-hundred lines of 'I will respect the word of God', his handwriting large and messy at the top before Zachariah warned that he would make him start all over if he couldn't fit all two-hundred lines in legible handwriting. Though Dean wanted to write in large chicken scratch at the condescending tone, he wasn't that fucking stupid. So about a quarter of the way through he began writing minuscule sentences, words the height of his thumbnail at most.

Looking up at the clock to see it was a quarter past five, Dean turned just in time to see Zachariah look up from his book and scan the board.

"All two-hundred?"

Dean had to hold back a sigh of exasperation, "Do you want to count?"

Though most mundane tasks usually interested Zachariah because he was a backwards fucker, he wasn't having it today and instead simply dismissed Dean with a flick of his wrist and Dean complied without a second thought. He swung his backpack over his shoulder and was out the door before Zachariah had the chance to notice the last sentence was, 'I will respect the word of Mary's bosom'.

_Ah, virgins. _

Dean was too busy rifling through his pockets for his keys to notice that someone else was sitting on the hood of his baby in the lonely parking lot. When he finally looked up to see Castiel staring blankly at him, he nearly jumped out of his skin, letting out an alarmed, "Jesus Christ!" as he fumbled his keys and they felt onto the cement.

"No, I'm Castiel." Cas replied and Dean couldn't help the shaky laugh that escaped his lips.

"Funny, _asshole_." Dean droned, though he was smiling as he reached down for his keys and unlocked the car, "What're you doing here anyway, Cas? I thought Jo was going to take you home."

"She was. But Anna would have had to sit on my lap if we were to all fit in her front seat. I decided to wait here instead." Dean was too busy rounding the side of his car and opening Cas' passenger door to notice the small blossom of pink on Cas' ears.

"But wasn't that two hours ago?"

"Honestly, Dean. I didn't mind."

"If you say so, man."

They both settled into the Impala and Dean revved her engine once or twice just for kicks before they pulled out onto the barren highways, headed for home.

It was only a minute or two into the drive when Dean spoke up, saying, "So I don't usually do this but…" Dean reached across Cas to pop open the glove box and pull out a box of cassettes, setting it down between them on the bench, "Seriously, Sam would be so fucking jealous if he knew. What do you want to listen to, Cas?"

Though he couldn't read the labels, Cas still riffled through the box to amuse Dean, picking one completely at random and saying, "This one looks good."

Dean considered asking whether the irony was intentional, but was distracted as he held the tape in his hands, a grin spreading across his face, "AC/DC. Good choice, my friend."

He popped it into the cassette player and soon _Back in Black_ was blaring through the stereo. Dean cranked down his window for added effect and broke out in a grin as he saw Cas do the same.

He didn't know when he started singing, but with the wind whipping through the car, the music sending an infectious vibration throughout through the seats, and Cas' smile sending a shock of adrenaline through his veins, Dean found that he never wanted to stop.

He never wanted this song to stop. He never wanted this road to end.

And he never wanted the smile on Cas' face to fade.

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**And there it is!**

**Hope you liked. I think my writing changed a bit but hopefully not too much. I feel as though there was a little more humor in this chapter.**

**Anyway, not sure when the next update will come. Hopefully not as long as the last break though!**

**Reviews make my knee feel better~**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey look it wasn't a huge wait for this chapter! **

**So I woke up this morning really really wanting to get something out to you guys today. But when I finally sat down, I had a really rough time at first. So I apologize if bits of this are just bleh. It got better by the end but still! **

**Let me just say that you guys are AMAZING. The feedback from the last chapter was incredible. I'm so happy that you guys are enjoying this. Oh! And thank you for all the comments about my knee! It's doing better every day! :)**

**So with that, enjoy chapter 4!**

**Warnings: Alcohol and drug use. (Kids will be kids. It's okay, I promise.)**

**Note: Sorry for any mistakes, as always. Wanted to get thing up as soon as possible! **

* * *

Angel on the Balcony:

_Chapter 4_

Before Dean could even stop to look around, two months of his senior year had passed right underneath his feet and early November brought a steady chill to the state of Kansas.

So when Gabriel suggested the idea of getting one last camping trip in before winter really started rolling in, Dean was the first one at their lunch table to give an, "I'm in."

The group had been doing it ever since Gabriel first got his license when he was 16. For his birthday Gabriel was allowed to pick out any used car from the lot and naturally he had chosen a sky blue, VW camper van that looked like it had rolled straight out of the 60's. Like many people who had an uncanny likeness to their cars, Gabriel was no exception.

So when school became stressful and the conditions were good, everyone packed an overnight duffle and a sleeping bag, and pitched in five bucks for a case or two of beer (provided by Gabriel's own fake ID) as well as just about everything from the snack aisle in their local grocery store before they drove off to a small camp site three hours down the road.

"So does that work for everyone?" Gabriel had asked, leaning toward the center of the lunch table. Before anyone had a chance to reply, he had slammed a fist on the table and said, "Awesome. Friday at 5 pm. Be ready for me to pick your lucky asses up. It's going to be a good weekend."

At 4:55 pm that Friday, Dean had already slung his duffle over his shoulder, kissed Mary on the cheek, patted John on the back, promised to stay out of _too much_ trouble, and ignored Sam's somewhat jealous glare when he was out the door and onto the Novak's front porch where Castiel was sitting with his things, rocking gently on a wicker rocking chair.

Castiel's head turned up as Dean stepped across the creaky panels to sit on the banister across from him, "You ready for a great weekend, Cas?"

Castiel shrugged, "I hope so."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed just a bit at that, but he smiled through it before leaning forward and tapping Castiel's shins with his foot, "Hope so? I think you know so."

Castiel looked only somewhat convinced as he lifted his head in Dean's general direction, "I mean, I've never really done this sort of thing before."

"You mean you've never had fun?" Dean asked jokingly, "Because, come on Castiel. You've been hanging around with me for the last three months. Don't tell me you haven't learned to have just a little fun!"

Dean felt a weight lift off his chest when he saw Castiel's face break open into an open-mouthed smile and he replied with, "I mean _camping_, Dean. And with your friends."

"My friends? Cas, they're your friends too." The worried look came back to Castiel's face as fast as it had left and Dean instantly became intent on clearing it right off, "Seriously, man, they like you a lot. Trust me."

"Why would they?"

"Well, why do I like you?"

"I have no idea, you tell me."

And though Dean had seen Castiel concerned, Dean had never seen him like this. Castiel's shoulders were tensed and he was chewing nervously at his lower lip, sightless eyes downcast at his intertwined fingers, knuckles white with the force in which he was clenching them.

And Dean knew he liked Castiel. That was a given. He liked Castiel from the moment he saw him, though no one had ever questioned him why, not even himself. But why did he like Castiel? What made him want to get up early on a Sunday so he could wait for the Novaks to come home from church? What made him want to sit next to Castiel on his balcony, staring in complete silence at the fields that seemed to stretch on to the end of the world? What made that silence a comfortable one? What made him wish that he could just stay there forever? Made him wish that he never had to leave his side, and made it feel as though he had to tear himself away when he did?

Dean knew he liked safety. He liked when things were predictable. He liked when things stayed the same. He liked knowing that his friends were always going to be idiots that could make him laugh at just about anything. He liked knowing that Sam was always going to roll his eyes at his dumb jokes. He liked knowing that he was always going to hate Zachariah's class and that when he talked shit in class, he was always going to get a detention.

But he never knew when Castiel was going to smile. He never knew what Castiel was thinking when they sat in silence, the world stretching endlessly before the two of them. He could never imagine what it was like to be blind, to live in darkness, to rely on what others tell you the world looks like. He could never imagine what it would be like to belong to a world that you don't even have the privilege to see.

Castiel was not safe. Castiel was not predictable. Castiel did not stay the same.

_So why did he like Cas?_

Before Dean even had the opportunity to verbalize some sort of reassurance, he heard the distant sound of music rolling up the barren road and the enthusiastic honking of Gabriel at the wheel.

Jo was sat in the passenger seat and she cranked down the window, yelling out to them, "Hop in boys!"

"You heard the girl, Cas. You ready?"

When he turned around, it pained Dean to see that Castiel still looked apprehensive about the whole situation. So he threw his own duffle over his shoulder, picked up his sleeping bag, and used his other arm to hook it around Castiel's shoulder, pulling him to his side, "If I make a promise that you'll be alright, will you trust me on it?"

It took a moment for Castiel to lift his head and nod, but when he did, Dean could see a nervous smile had returned to his face, "Fine. I trust you."

Patting his back reassuringly, Dean guided them over to the van, the side door sliding open to reveal Garth and Meg. The entire back of the van consisted of a half circle couch with a small table in the center where a bag of Doritos and two cokes were already opened. As Dean climbed into the back as well, he looked over the seats into the trunk to see a pile of duffles, sleeping bags, a huge red cooler, and grocery bags containing what looked to contain everything from flashlights to doughnut holes.

"Looks like we're well-stocked, Gabe!" Dean called as he gave Cas a lift into the spot beside him.

"You bet your ass we are, Winchester!" Gabriel called over his shoulder as he ignited the car and tore down the road once more, "I always take care of my favorite sons and daughters."

Dean grinned, rolling his eyes and indicating to the cup holders up front, "Is that why you've already opened a Bud?"

"Actually that's mine." Jo replied, kicking her heels up on the dashboard.

"S'pose it's 5 o'clock somewhere."

"It's 5 o'clock now, you ass." And with that Jo grabbed her beer and took a long swing, letting out a satisfied sigh as she dropped it back into the cup holder, "Don't you get stingy on me, Winchester."

"Wouldn't dare, Harvelle."

Dean relaxed back into the couch, glancing around at the inside of the van at its tacky wood paneling and multiple polaroids that were stuck crookedly along the edge of the windows. He was pictured a lot, though he really couldn't remember most of the blurry shots. It wasn't until he looked at one picture at the edge of the door when he suddenly he noticed someone missing.

"Hey, where's Lisa?"

"Sick with the stomach flu." Meg replied, shuffling a deck of cards on the table, "Vomiting since three in the morning."

"Ugh." Dean cringed, looking briefly at Castiel to see that he had pulled the same face.

"But never fear! Even in her absence, Lisa's spirit lives on in her beloved mixed tapes!" Gabriel proclaimed suddenly, turning the volume dial up until the van was vibrating with the sounds of banjos, tambourines, and what sounded like a kazoo.

"I'm friends with a bunch of damn hippies!" Dean managed to yell over the music, though he found himself smiling fondly.

"Not our fault that our glory days came twenty years before yours!" Garth said with a crooked grin, leaning over the back seat to reach into the cooler and pull out a cold beer, tossing it to Dean, "What do you want to drink, Castiel?"

Castiel's head perked up at the mention of his name from where he had been slowly dissolving into the background of the controlled chaos in front of him, "Water?"

Garth laughed at that, though it was a good-natured, "Sorry this is America. We have Coke or beer, you choose."

"Coke then." Castiel replied and Dean was comforted by the up-turn of his lips as Castiel leaned across him towards Garth's voice, hand out-stretched.

"Alright so which of you poor souls am I going to take down in Black Jack first?" Meg spoke up, reaching behind her into her duffle and pulling out a bag of poker chips.

"Cas and I are on a team." Dean replied, a grin stretched across his face as he slung an arm around Castiel's shoulder, "Dynamic duo. Right, Cas?"

And Dean doesn't think he could ever quite annunciate the feeling that welled up inside of him when he felt Castiel scoot just a bit closer to him, his shoulders relaxing beneath his grip, and his features pulling into one of content. Though it felt familiar to the same feeling that he got when he'd laughed until he'd cried and he'd just coming down from that euphoria, this feeling was one that felt both subdued and overwhelming at the same time. It felt as though he was about to burst, but at the same time everything felt just right.

And somewhere in Dean's subconscious, he knew exactly what that feeling was.

And that it felt a little like love.

* * *

Dean never knew how Gabriel got most of his contacts, but most of the time he was just glad that he did. As they pulled up to the camp site registration booth, it only took a small exchange of words before they were directed in, Gabriel waving out the window and driving down a small dirt road into the depths of the site.

They drove another ten minutes before Gabriel pulled into a small clearing at the banks of a large lake, the moon already gleaming across its surface from within the darkening sky. The spot was their usual place, open enough to look at the stars but enclosed enough that they were out of direct sight from the road. It was also perfect for skinny-dipping when the weather was warmer and was equipped with a bonfire pit in the center. And last but not least, it was only a two minute walk from the porta-potties which the girls always appreciated.

"Welcome, campers!" Gabriel proclaimed as they screeched to a stop on the faded grass. He turned around in his seat, a look of mock-seriousness on his face as he eyed each of them down, "Now everyone do their share and unload all the shit in the back."

They all piled out and lifted up the trunk door, heaving all of their bags into a new pile just as haphazard as the last. Fold out chairs were immediately placed around the bonfire pit and Dean coudn't help but fall back into one, stretching out his legs and groaning.

"Slacking already, Winchester?" Jo's voice carried from where she stood grinning at the back of the van, three grocery bags hanging from each of her scrawny arms.

"Long car ride! I've got leg cramps!" Dean replied, begrudgingly standing up from his chair again and trudging over to help Garth lift out the cooler and bring it over.

All the while that everyone unloaded the van, Castiel stood to the side, leaning against the passenger door and taking in the sounds and feelings of the camp site, the rustle of the wind in the trees, and the cool breeze that carried off the lake.

Dean walked over to him when it looked as though everyone else could handle the rest of the unloading, taking hold of his arm and leading him to the bonfire pit. Dean guided Castiel back into one of the chairs before kneeling next to the pit, piling a couple logs into a cabin-type structure and crumbling newspaper and small sticks beneath it, "So what do you think?"

Castiel smiled, leaning forward in his chair towards where Dean was dumping lighter fluid on the wood and attempting to strike a match, "I like the feel of this place."

Dean glanced up and couldn't help but share the same content smile that stretched across Castiel's face. When he saw that smile, something inside of him clicked into place and made him feel as though he had done something right by that smile. That that was his purpose, to make sure that it never faded. To make sure that Castiel was alright and that he never broke his promise.

"Well I like the feel of warmth, so Mr. Winchester, if you please~" He looked up at Meg as she and the rest of the group dragging over their own chairs and crowded around the bonfire pit, looking at him expectantly.

Dean sighed, "Yeah, yeah. If this damn match would just- Oh there we go." On his last strike, the match flared up in his grip and he tossed it into the pit, the light of the flickering fire reflecting back in his eyes, "Happy?"

Meg grinned, practically purring as she held her hands up to the flame and replied, "Ah, yes."

Dean sat back in his chair, lifting his feet up, loving the way that it seemed to melt the cold from the bottoms of his feet to the tip of his ears.

"So what's on the menu, Gabe?" Jo asked from Dean's right.

"Well, since you asked." Gabriel turned in his seat to rifle through some of the grocery bags at his feet, "For dinner we have enough smore makings to make you sick." He tossed a box of graham crackers at Dean, a bag of marshmallows to Jo, and three packs of Hershey's chocolate at Garth before looking back up with a somewhat mischievous grin. Dean would be lying if he said he wasn't immediately curious, "And for desert, a bit of weed courtesy of my brother Lucy. Enjoy, children."

"You're kidding!" Jo exclaimed, jumping from her seat and grabbing the bag from Gabriel's hands, inspecting it, "Jesus, we haven't had any good weed in ages!"

"Told you it was going to be a good weekend." Gabriel replied, expression smug, "But you've got to eat at least three smores before you can have any. Wouldn't want to ruin your appetite!" But then as an afterthought, he added, "And we bought a shit ton of makings so you all better eat them."

Sticks and marshmallows were passed around and Dean looked over to Castiel, "How do you like yours done, Cas?"

"Well, when I was a kid I would always burn them. But I got used to the taste. So burned is good with me."

"Ah, a good man!" Meg exclaimed from the opposite side of the campfire, "Burned is the only way to go. That way you know the inside is melted all the way through."

Dean shook his head though a grin pulled at the corner of his lips, "I respect your marshmallow preference though it is a disgusting one." He glanced over at Castiel to find that he was turned in his direction.

"I'm guessing you're the golden-brown kind, then?" Castiel smirked, eyebrows raised teasingly and Dean's own eyebrows quirked curiously.

"Yes?"

"But let me guess. You like them golden-brown but you don't have the patience to wait for it to be perfect so you just burn it anyway."

"Yes! He always does that!" Garth exclaimed, "But it's hilarious because he'll make it seem like an accident."

"Yeah because we all know how patient Dean is," Jo teased, "'Can hardly sit still for three minutes needs to always be doing something' Winchester, yeah?"

Dean laughed with them, more than able to laugh at himself, when he noticed Castiel's expression. It was one that he got when he was thinking about something, when you could almost see the cogs turning in his head, though Dean could never quite figure out what it was that he was thinking about.

He pulled Castiel's flaming marshmallow back from the fire, blew it out, and fixed up a smore before prodding him in the shoulder, efficiently breaking whatever thought process he was in, "Here you are, Cas. One 'disgustingly burnt' smore just for you."

"Oh, thank you." Castiel lifted the smore to his lips and took a bite. A small moan of appreciation escaped his lips and Dean could help but grin.

"Ah, that's the sound I like to hear!" Gabriel proclaimed, "Everybody now!"

And they all took bites of their own smores and made their own collective moan of happiness.

As the night wore on, the group ate as many smores as they could before feeling sick to their stomachs before they finally broke open the weed, sharing drags around the bonfire until they were all feeling loose and warm, lazy smiles hanging off all of their faces.

Dean had initially been surprised when Castiel had held out a hand for a drag. Sensing the look Dean was giving him, Castiel had just scoffed and said in a voice low enough for only Dean to hear, "You promised I would be alright and I said I would trust you, so here you go."

Now, as Dean took in a long drag of smoke into his lungs and let it out slowly, he couldn't help the way that his head lolled to the said, fixated on Castiel. He couldn't help the way that his eyes drifted from his unnaturally blue eyes, down his sharp jawline, exposed neck, and collarbone where his sweater hung loose on his features. He couldn't help that he was numb to anything else around him until Jo had to literally kick his chair over so she could take the next drag before the joint went out.

And Dean couldn't even bother to be embarrassed by the stifled snickers that came from all around him, like they knew something that he didn't. Or maybe he did. He wasn't quite sure. Everything was a bit blurry, as if the thought he was reaching for lay just beyond a veil of water. He could see it there, but couldn't quite make it out. And suddenly he understood why he didn't remember most of the polaroids that hung in the van.

"I declare a toast!" Gabriel said, standing up and wobbling slightly, "To us, naturally. The best around. I couldn't be a prouder father."

"Sit down you old man!" Dean shouted and joined with the others as they all raised their drinks with a loud cheer.

And Dean wished that he could capture this moment and hang it in the van. Because right here, right now, beside his friends and beside Cas, everything was literally picture-perfect.

* * *

After a couple more hours around the campfire, one by one, everyone began slowly walking off back to the van where they grabbed their sleeping bags and made room for themselves in the van before falling asleep.

First it was Meg, then Garth, then Jo who dragged Gabriel along when he fell asleep in his chair. Eventually it was just Dean and Castiel, side by side before the fading fire and Dean was reminded of how they sat side by side on Castiel's balcony nearly every night. And, like then, their silence was quiet but comfortable. Dean's eyelids began to droop slightly but he knew that he couldn't sleep just yet. He had something important to say.

"Cas?" He asked, eyes closing so that he was submerged in the same, warm darkness.

"Hm?" He heard Castiel hum beside him, so close that their arms and the arms of their folding chairs were touching. Dean let out a long breath, feeling sleep edging in on him, but he resisted, gripping onto Castiel's arm to keep himself tethered to the awaken world.

"You told me to tell you why I like you." Dean breathed, words slurring slightly. If he wasn't still riding out his high, he may have noticed the way that Castiel stiffened slightly beside him.

"…And?"

Dean opened his eyes again, leaning his head back so that he was looking up at the stars, "I'm not quite sure, really." He began, "And, fuck, I'm probably going to screw this up but…" Dean paused for a second, watching one of the stars blink in the night sky, "I like you because I never had to _try_ to like you. I just did. You know, when you first moved in I went on my balcony and saw you on yours. Like, I didn't even know you and I probably should have just left you alone but it was weird because I just _couldn't._ And it's like that all the time now."

Dean turned his head from sky to look at Castiel. Castiel had since turned his head towards Dean, lips slightly parted as he listened intently.

"And I don't know, Cas." Dean continued, feeling his small speech coming to an end, "I don't really have a straight answer. I just like you because of you."

Dean watched Castiel's expression once more, the same thinking one as before, though he could tell that his thoughts were just as muddled as his own. But then Castiel smiled.

"I'm glad you kept your promise." He said, bringing Dean to attention once more.

And Dean knew he was close enough, knew that this was as good a moment as any to do it. But 'it' was still beyond the veil, distorted and untouchable. And though he was close, Dean still didn't quite know what exactly 'it' was. He couldn't reach to push aside the veil. He was so close, but what he was searching to understand was still too far away. And so he swallowed back whatever 'it' was and looked to the glowing embers, the thought eventually fading once more.

"I always keep my promises, Cas."

* * *

**Can you feeeeeeeeeeeel the looooooove toniiiiiiiight~**

**Haha hopefully the next update will be soon?**

**Reviews are super great!**


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